A Charcoal Sky

The sky slowly faded into charcoal, the tiniest of stars dotting it and painting patterns on it as the sun disappeared. It was a canvas that each night was rewritten. The same pattern over and over again, replicated to be almost indistinguishable from the previous versions.

Echoes of the past that set the backdrop for the future. This time of day always filled him with hope, and a renewed desire for redemption. He knew it could never offer him what he desired, but it gave him the motivation to keep trying, to keep hoping.

The sky was new each day and each night, holding the promise of renewal, of a fresh beginning. Though he hoped, a part of him knew the stars weren't for him. Not any more.

He had his fresh start when he became Angel again.

Now, the rest of his skies won't bring anything new, but rather, will guide him in his redemption and remind him that he is one tiny star among billions. He is nothing special, nothing to be admired for his time saving people. He is just as damaged as everyone else - perhaps, no probably, more so.

The charcoal of the sky is merely a backdrop to his journey of redemption.